


Stay High

by curiouslycurious



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Drunk Sex mentions, F/F, F/M, Minor Addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslycurious/pseuds/curiouslycurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU after 3.11, Going Home. Regina is the one who has to leave in order to stop Pan's curse instead of Henry and Emma who both return with everyone else to the Enchanted Forest. Regina tries to move on in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Habits

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a direct result of my slight obsession with Tove Lo's song, Habits (Stay High). Feel free to check out the video if you're not familiar with the song as it will provide a nice little explanation of what's happening initially - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oh2LWWORoiM.
> 
> Story starts in the present. Second chapter starts with flashbacks, and we'll build back up to the present from then on. 6 chapters written so far with maybe three or four to go after that, I think. May update every other day.

She opens her eyes, and the room is still dark. She can see light behind the black curtains on the other side of the room so she knows it's morning, but she doesn't know exactly how she ended up on this grungy couch. Her head is resting on something soft, and when she looks up, she realizes she's laying on a woman's stomach. There are two sets of feet almost touching her cheek, belonging to two other women draped across each other at the other end of the couch.

 

She thinks one of the three might be named Jessica.

 

Maybe.

 

They're all dressed at any rate so that's something.

 

Regina groans. Her white Gucci tank top is hanging off one shoulder, and it's so low, the black silk of her bra is peaking out of the top. She ignores it and contemplates trying to stand.

 

She doesn't.

 

The night is a blur. She thinks there was a club; she _knows_ there was alcohol. She may have had sex in a dirty bathroom. Or an alley.

 

Fuck it, she can't remember.

 

Just when she's about to attempt to stand, her phone beeps with a text message alert, and she's only mildly surprised that it's still in her back pocket. Lifting her hips, careful not to disturb the body she's using as a pillow, she digs it out and swipes to unlock.

 

It's from Henry.

 

_Mom, call me. Please. I love you._

 

Fuck.

 

Regina feels tears push hot behind her eyes, and she wills them not to fall.

 

They fall anyway, of course. No control.

 

“ _Ladies do not_ weep _in public, Regina.”_

 

“I'm not in public, mother,” she says to the quiet room, and she is mortified when she realizes she's just responded out loud to a fucking memory.

 

It's fitting, really. Crazy _is_ the next step after complete and utter self-imposed self-destruction, yes?

 

Regina hasn't spoken to Henry since Tuesday. It's now Thursday morning, and she knows she'll have to call him before the day's over, but she's never ready for it.

 

The woman below her grumbles something in her sleep, and Regina takes that as her cue to get up.

 

She gets lost twice before she finally finds the bathroom door.

 

Push not pull.

 

“You look like shit,” she says to her reflection once she stumbles into the bathroom, hands gripping the edge of the sink, still a little drunk, and it's not untrue. She clears her throat, but it does little to clear the burn from the copious amounts of alcohol and two packs of cigarettes from the night before. Regina runs her fingers through her hair until it's vaguely presentable, scrubs her fingers under her eyes against last night's eyeliner, and steals a dab of toothpaste, using her finger to scrub the fuzzy feeling out of her mouth.

 

“You're so classy, Mills,” she says around her finger in her mouth. She spits, swishes water to remove the toothpaste, spits again, and then grins big and cheesy in the mirror.

 

She remembers her life, and she's frowning again.

 

Now. To leave this place.

 

Pull, not push, this time to exit the bathroom.

 

Coat.

 

Shoes.

 

Purse.

 

Dignity.

 

_Oh, wait._

 

Regina rolls her eyes and snatches an almost-empty can of some dreadful beer still sitting upright on the kitchen counter as she passes through. She throws back what's left and doesn't even wince at the awful taste.

 

The door slams behind her on her way out, and she's more than a little sadistically pleased at the sound of grunts and groans and yells of confusion as she wakes up the worthless bodies still inside as she leaves.

 


	2. Gone in the Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly dialogue pulled from 3.11, Going Home.

**1 year and 3 months earlier**

 

“It's not too late. We can still stop it. Right?” She can vaguely hear Charming's voice. “Regina?”

 

 _Snap out of it._ “Yes,” she says. “Yes.”

 

“Wh-What's the price?” Emma's voice now. “Gold said there was a price. What is our price?”

 

 _Fuck_. “It's not _our_ price. It's mine.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Emma and her questions. Always questions.

 

“It's what I felt when I first held it,” Regina says. “I have to say goodbye to the thing I love most.”

 

 _Henry._ “Henry?” Fucking questions.

 

Regina sighs. “I can never see him again. I have no choice. I have to undo what I started.”

 

“The curse that brought us to Storybrooke.” _Shut up, Snow._

 

“Breaking the curse...destroys the town.” _Charming. Ever the smart one._

 

“It will wink out of existence as though it were never here,” Regina explains. _Now for the hard part._ “And everyone will go back to where they're from. Prevented from ever returning.”

 

“You'll go back to the Enchanted Forest.” _Oh, Emma_ , she thinks.

 

“No, Emma. All of _you_ will go back.”

 

“Mom?”

 

 _Oh, my little prince._ “I have to stay.”

 

“Alone?” _Emma, stop asking questions._

 

“The curse...it won't accept me. It won't take me back.”

 

“Regina, no. You'll come back. With everyone.” Emma speaks, and Regina thinks how far they've all come.

 

“That's not an option. I can't be with him. If I don't pay the price, none of this will work.”

 

“But-”

 

“Emma, I have to go.”

 

“No! No, I'm the Savior. I'm supposed to bring back the happy endings. That's what Henry always said. I-”

 

“Emma, happy endings aren't always what we think they'll be.” _Fucking Snow._

 

“She'll be alone!” Regina jumps slightly despite herself when Emma yells at Snow.

 

“Emma-” Regina says, reaching out to touch Emma's arm.

 

“No!” Emma jerks away from her. “We're a family!”

 

_A family._ Regina's eyes widen at the yelled declaration.  _We_ are _a family._

 

“Emma, I've known you for some time,” she says. “And all I've wanted was for you to get the hell out of my life so that I can be with my son.” Emma smiles like an idiot. “But really - what I want - is for Henry to be happy. We have no choice.” Push not pull. “I have to go.”

 

Regina wills Emma to accept this. They don't have time. She can't deal with this right now. No more questions.

 

“Okay,” Emma breathes out.

 

_Thank you._

 

In the next breath, it seems, they're at the town line.

 

“This isn't fair. It's all my fault.” Sweet, sweet Henry.

 

“Henry. It isn't your fault. It's mine. I cast a curse out of vengeance. And I'm--I'm a villain. You heard Mr. Gold: Villains don't get happy endings.”

 

“You're not a villain. You're my mom.”

 

Regina pulls Henry to her. He's warmth against her cold. Sweet, sweet boy.

 

“Regina. Take the bug.” Emma lays a hand on Henry's back, and her fingers brush momentarily against Regina's.

 

“What?”

 

“I know you hate it.” Emma smirks, but there are tears in her eyes. “And I know it's not as nice as your car, but it exists outside of Storybrooke.”

 

“Emma...” _Thank you,_ she should say. But nothing else comes.

 

“This is bullshit, by the way.”

 

Regina laughs even as tears spill over onto her cheeks. “I know.” _Sweet, sweet Emma._ “I have to go.” She releases Henry and the warmth is gone. “There isn't much time left and the curse will be here any minute.” Emma presses the keys to the bug into her hand and closes them with her own. “Once I cross, tear the scroll. Your magic will do the rest.”

 

Emma opens her mouth to speak, but Regina holds up a finger. “Don't.”

 

Emma nods, tears finally falling, and she says nothing. She's still holding Regina's hand in hers.

 

“I love you, Mom,” Henry says. His arm is slung around Emma's waist.

 

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” she says, eyes flicking between both Henry and Emma, and Emma's eyes widen. Regina takes a step closer to her. “Take care of him?”

 

Emma licks her lips. “Always,” she whispers.

 

Regina pulls away. Emma's hands release hers only when she's moved out of reach. Regina sits down in the bug, and only looks in the rearview mirror once before she drives across the town line. Her last view is of Emma holding Henry back as he lunges after her.

 

White smoke swallows them all, and then there is nothing.

 


	3. We All Become

****

 

**10 months and five days earlier**

 

It had only taken two weeks for Regina to stop visiting the old town line.

 

Three weeks to officially move out of Maine.

 

Four weeks to look for work and attempt to move on in New York City.

 

While her professional references were essentially non-existent, her experience more than made up for it. Ruling a kingdom, running a town, dealing with Charming bullshit – it had all pretty well prepared her for anything the outside world could to throw at her.

 

“I don't care,” she says into her cell pressed between her shoulder and her cheek. “Look. You either have that contract on my desk by Monday morning before 10 am or,” she pauses, checking her nails and peeling a flake of old nail polish off of the end of her index finger. “No, you know what? There is no 'or', Mr. Wells. I trust you understand that you will not enjoy the consequences if you're late. Good day, sir.” She ends the call and tosses her phone onto her desk. Regina swivels around to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her office. It's a nice day. It should make her smile.

 

Regina doesn't.

 

“Ms. Mills?”

 

She hums a response. Heels clack towards her from behind. “Your driver is downstairs. Will you be needing anything else today?”

 

Regina waves her hand. “No, Tasha. That will be all.”

 

Silence and then, “Ms. Mills?”

 

Regina swivels back around to her desk. “Yes, Tasha.”

 

When the girl doesn't respond, Regina looks up. Tasha is looking at the floor and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

“Tasha.” She only has so much patience these days. “Is there something you need?”

 

The girl looks up. “My mother, Ms. Mills. She will be in town next week.” Tasha breaks eye contact again, and then she's waving her hands dismissively. “Never mind,” she says. “Have a wonderful weekend, Ms. Mills.” And she turns around and rushes from the room.

 

Regina rolls her eyes, cursing herself for the words that are already bubbling up from some fucking Chasm of Caring that she hadn't developed until recently.

 

“Miss Manzana,” Regina says, and Tasha stops before she reaches the door. “I will not be needing your assistance on Tuesday or Wednesday. If you will have my affairs in order before you leave on Monday evening, you may resume work on Thursday.”

 

Life would be so much easier if Regina didn't care so damn much. Damn the Charmings and their idiot daughter. She sighs quietly to herself, the Evil Queen huffing indignantly at her weakness.

 

Tasha turns around to face her again, and damn her if she doesn't have tears in her eyes.

 

“Miss Manzana, please excuse yourself. You will not cry in my office,” Regina says, pointing to the door behind the girl.

 

Tasha laughs nervously, a stray tear sliding free down her cheek which she swats at, and bows her head at Regina before she practically runs from the room.

 

Regina gathers her things, turns out the lights, steps into the elevator. Her driver is indeed waiting on her when she walks out of the building.

 

Her stilettos click-clack against the pavement.

 

“Ms. Mills.” A man in a designer suit holds the backdoor of a black Town Car open for her.

 

“Good evening, Drake.” Regina slides into the backseat. She sets her bag beside her. The door closes. She leans her head back against the headrest. Drake slips into the front seat. Another door closes.

 

“Home, Ms. Mills?” he asks.

 

“Yes, please.” _Home_ , she thinks. _Hardly._ “How is your son?”

 

If Regina's eyes hadn't been closed, head still resting back against her seat, she would have seen Drake's soft smile as he looked at her in his rearview mirror.

 

“Treatments are going well. He will be in the hospital for the next few nights, but the doctors are pleased with his progress.”

 

Regina hears a turn signal. Feels the car turn left, then immediately right. She scrunches her nose.

 

“I'm glad to hear it. If you need anything, you will let me know.”

 

Drake chuckles softly to himself, glancing back again to look at the woman with her eyes still closed in the backseat. “Of course, Ms. Mills.”

 

A “Goodnight, Drake.” and a “Goodnight, Ms. Mills. Enjoy your evening.” later, and she is in her apartment.

 

Food.

 

Bathtub.

 

Food while she's in the bathtub.

 

Regina scrubs her face free of makeup. Scrubs her body free of self-loathing.

 

The loneliness washes away with her thirty-five dollar shampoo.

 

Out of the bathtub.

 

Body toweled dry, hair dried and styled high on her head, off of her neck, makeup reapplied.

 

Necklace.

 

Lipstick.

 

Mascara.

 

Regina wears two hundred dollar, dark skinny jeans. Burberry tank top. Jimmy Choos.

 

She looks at herself in the mirror on the wall by her door, and she looks so little like Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke, her own son might not even recognize her if he were to pass her on the street.

 

Which he won't.

 

Regina leaves.

 

One car ride, one train, and two blocks later.

 

Loud music fills the air, hot, charged bodies fill the space, and Regina is in the middle of it all. Drink in hand. Man on one side, woman on the other. Grinding in between.

 

So much energy runs through the clubs in this city. So much emotion. So much fucking emotion. It's the one and only time of the day she has access to her magic, and it becomes an addiction. Human emotion is everything. Human emotion fuels the power inside of her like a fucking car battery. She can feel it thrumming through her veins, and she calls it to the surface again and again without release, and it drives her mad.

 

There are lips and a tongue on her neck, more than one set of hands on her hips and on her ass, and she's not even sure which way is up anymore when another pair of lips crashes against hers, and she welcomes it, needing to funnel some of the magic inside of her into something else. Her tongue darts out to meet the one already pushing into her mouth, and she releases a subtle wave of not-quite-so-dark-anymore magic into her partner. A wild moan from the girl is her only response, and Regina swallows it with a deeper kiss. Her hands are fisting into long, wavy hair. There's a thigh between her legs. She grinds against it as her partner grinds against hers. Another wave of magic. Regina opens her eyes briefly, and her partner is glowing a soft purple around the edges. It's subtle enough to be blamed on the lighting in the club.

 

Regina flows easily from partner to partner throughout the night. There are drinks. There are cigarettes. There is sex with a man in a graffitied bathroom. There is sex with a woman in the same bathroom.

 

There is no regret.

 

When Regina finally stumbles home, she eats food standing up in her kitchen. Leftover shitty Chinese food.

 

When Regina finally stumbles to bed, she is numb, she still has the grime from the night clinging to her body, and she falls asleep thinking of a mop of brown hair and a big smile on a little boy an entire world away.


	4. Clarity

 

****

 

**6 months and three days earlier**

 

There are too many people in this damn city.

 

Regina slowly accumulates a small circle of acquaintances. No friends, of course. She doesn't share her feelings with these people. They drink. They dance. Sometimes they fuck. But there is no friendship.

 

She's gone from only going out on the weekends to going out nearly ever night of the week. Regina loses herself in bodies, booze, and cigarettes.

 

She sets a girl on fire in the middle of a crowded club one night when her magic gets out of hand due to too much alcohol. She was able to control it before the girl burned to death. So whatever.

 

A bar stool cracks in half when a man won't take no for an answer, and he goes skidding across the floor only to slam head first into the bottom of the stage thirty feet from her. He wakes up ten minutes later so no harm done.

 

The florescent lighting in a, surprisingly nice, club bathroom explodes when a young woman in a red dress makes her come. No one was hurt.

 

“Who's Emma?” the girl asks, and she's leaning heavily against Regina, pressed to the wall, her hand still under Regina's dress. Their breaths mingle, and their chests are pressed tightly together, both still panting.

 

Regina's eyes are squeezed shut, her head leaning back against the wall as she tries to catch her breath. The alcohol in her system is still making her dizzy.

 

“What?”

 

The woman slowly pulls her fingers from under Regina's dress, and Regina whines out a moan at the sudden loss of contact.

 

“Emma,” the woman says, and Regina opens her eyes to watch as she sucks her own fingers clean.

 

Regina bites her lip before grabbing at the woman's hand and bringing her fingers to her own mouth to finish them off.

 

“You called me Emma,” she says, leaning down for a lazy kiss that involves more tongue than lips. “Girlfriend?”

 

Regina smirks against the woman's mouth. “No.”

 

Regina doesn't ponder the implications of having spoken Emma's name until she's lying in bed that night. As she's nodding off, her last thoughts are still of a little boy who must be several inches taller by now, but a flash of blonde hair fills her vision the moment before sleep takes her, and she smiles.

 


	5. First Confluence

 

** **

 

**3 months earlier**

 

Over the next few weeks, Regina's nightly routine changes in a few very specific ways. Number one, her male partners dwindle in number to zero and never, and Regina only entertains other women. Number two, all of these women are very blatantly blonde. Tall. Strong.

 

If Regina thinks anything of this change, she doesn't discuss it with herself, but the change is there just the same. If Regina feels more safe on the mornings she wakes up in bed wrapped around these women, she doesn't acknowledge it. And if she calls all of these women Emma, both aloud and in her head, during her drunken sexual encounters, she doesn't dwell on that fact post-fuck.

 

Regina is swamped with work for the next week and a half, and by the time Drake pulls up in front of her apartment each night, she is too exhausted to even think about going out. Her alcohol consumption dwindles significantly, and her forays into sexual discovery disappear almost entirely for this period of time.

 

Drake, her driver, has stopped asking where she wants to go after work, instead just taking her straight home without comment. They converse on his son some nights, but, mostly, he just watches her with a sad smile in his rearview mirror as she dozes in the back seat for the ride back to her apartment.

 

“Where to, Ms. Mills?” he asks one night, more old habit prompting the question than anything. He shakes his head. “Home, correct?”

 

Regina pauses at the opened door to the Town Car. She looks up at the sky which has already started to darken, thinks for half a moment, and then shakes her head. “No,” she says, drawing out the word. “The Hansen, please.” Regina shifts into place in the back seat before Drake shuts the door. It has been too long since she's used magic, and her blood is starting to feel too hot under her skin. It's time to release a bit of that tension, she thinks.

 

The Hansen is a relatively respectable establishment. Hardly the shabby, crowded, sweaty clubs she usually frequents. The Hansen's clientele is much more of the Old Money variety, and she finds she fits in better than she'd like to admit. The atmosphere is heavy in that forced sophistication kind of way. The air smells of cigar smoke and expensive Scotch, and Regina can sink into an over-sized leather chair in a dimly lit corner with a book on her lap, a drink in her hand, and reading glasses perched on her nose, and no one thinks anything of it.

 

There's always a live band playing some form of classic jazz, and Regina loves the more mature emotion that slips through the air like waves off of the older crowd. It's no less heady, but maybe a bit more calm in its intensity.

 

Drake drops her off out front. She leaves the large bag she carries to work in the car, only pulling a small clutch purse out of it before she gets out. Regina nods to the doorman, inquires after his family, and then converses briefly with the owner after he catches her entrance.

 

No one in New York knows her background, naturally, but Regina isn't one to act lesser than she is. Her appearance, the way she carries herself, the way she talks – most people who know of her in social circles have simply assumed that she was or is someone of importance somewhere, and they treat her as such.

 

The owner wishes her well and offers to escort her to her usual spot to the left of the stage, but she refuses politely, preferring to not make a fuss.

 

Regina makes her way to the back of the club. She ignores the many eyes that follow her, concentrating instead on the soft lull of music drifting from a lone bass player and a drummer on the stage. She can already feel the light waves of energy coursing from the instruments, and she nearly gasps when her magic flares to life from within her chest. There are a few dancers on the floor, one in particular catching her eye, but she continues on to her seat without engaging anyone specifically.

 

It's moments like these, sitting in a comfortable chair, the room quiet but for the music and hushed murmurs of conversation surrounding her, relaxed, calm, that she lets her thoughts drift to Henry. A teenager now, his thirteenth birthday come and gone without her, and hopefully terrorizing both Emma and the Charmings. That brings a smile to her face, and she can't even stop the laugh that bubbles up at the thought.

 

“If I buy you a drink, may I hope to see that smile again as payment?”

 

Regina looks up at the sound of a slightly accented voice above her, not even realizing someone had stepped into her private bubble. She would have frowned at the intrusion, but she feels a smirk forming on her lips before she can stop herself.

 

“I won't refuse the drink, dear,” Regina says. “But the smile, you have to earn.”

 

A woman stands directly in front of her chair – the same woman she noticed on the dance floor when she entered – and a lovely smile blooms across her face at Regina's words.

 

“Well, then,” the woman says, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you're offering the challenge, I gladly accept.” She nods her head, the smile still on her face, and she gestures to the chair opposite Regina's. “May I?”

 

Regina gestures to the chair herself. “By all means.”

 

“Kat,” the woman says.

 

“Regina.”

 

“Lovely to meet you, your majesty,” Kat says with a smile and a bow of her head.

 

Regina nearly chokes on her own saliva. “Excuse me?”

 

Kat's laugh is lovely and deep. “Regina,” she says. “It means 'Queen,' yes?”

 

Regina's grin is cat-like and smug. “It does indeed.”

 

Well, this should be fun.

 

The night progresses as they all do. There is booze. There is flirting. There is decidedly less booze than normal, Regina notes, and she realizes that the conversation has actually been more stimulating than, “Hey, you're really hot.” or, “Fuck, dance with me?” or, her favorite, “Holy shit, you're sexy.” Regina talks as much as the other woman but never says anything substantial about her past or her personal life. Politics, business, the state of the world – all open topics, but if anything strays into So Where Are You From territory, she steers them back to neutral ground with a snide remark or a complimentary statement about Kat's hair or make up. Not that her potential bedmates ever mind. Which is why Regina is shocked about two hours into her evening out when the woman calls her on her bullshit.

 

“So,” Kat says. “I know that you are a successful business woman. I know your views on your country, how you take your coffee – black, two sugars,” she says with a smirk, matched by Regina's, “That your love of fine wine is only surpassed by your love of pasta, and that you have a particular soft spot for children if our conversation concerning your driver's little boy is any indication.”

 

Regina's smirk fades a little, and she takes a sip of her drink without comment.

 

“But,” Kat continues. “What of your family? Are you from New York?”

 

Regina shifts uneasily in her chair, and she's only slightly shocked at this turn of events. Over the past year, she hasn't sought out genuine companionship. Her partners have been perfectly content on her vague approach to personal conversation, looking only for the same thing she was: stress relief in the form of easy sex, no strings attached.

 

Kat, sensing Regina's discomfort, leans forward and places a warm hand on Regina's knee. Lower thigh, technically. Regina stares at the hand.

 

“I'm sorry, Regina,” Kat says, ducking her head to catch Regina's eyes. “If I was unclear on my intentions, I do apologize. I like you,” she says, and Regina frowns despite herself. “I feel we've connected beautifully in the last hour, and I am interested in pursuing whatever this,” she gestures between them, “is further; however, if that is not what you're looking for, then I understand. But I would like to know now before I make a further fool of myself this evening.” Her smile is warm, and Regina feels herself relaxing the slightest bit.

 

Kat's hand is warming even more on her leg, and when Regina crosses her legs, Kat lets her hand fall. Regina is only slightly disappointed at the loss of contact.

 

The night has been lovely, Regina knows, and she and this woman have shared an obvious connection. But Regina doesn't feel as if she's in any state to enter into a steady, stable relationship, nor does she think it fair to impose her issues onto another person at this point.

 

“I'm not looking for a relationship,” Regina finally says, her voice quiet, and her words coming out slow but steady.

 

Kat nods and leans back in her chair, crossing her own legs as well.

 

Regina's eyes flick to the exposed expanse of thigh when Kat's dress rides up her leg at the action, and Regina swallows. The look is quick, and if Kat notices, she doesn't show it.

 

“Well, in that case,” Kat says, and she holds a finger in the air, grabbing the attention of a nearby waiter. “Two, please,” she says to the waiter and he hurries off. “Friends?”

 

Friendship. Such a novel idea. She likes it.

 

Regina can't help the smile that stretches easily across her face.

 

“Ah,” Kat says, before Regina can respond. “There's the smile I've been working for.”

 

Regina snorts out a decidedly unladylike laugh, the tension all but relieved in that one phrase.

 

The waiter returns, depositing two small glasses of a dark liquid between the two women who then reach for them.

 

“Friends,” Regina says, and they both clink their glasses together over the small table before shooting back the drinks.

 

“Friends,” Kat says after swallowing.

 


	6. Give Your Heart a Break

 

** **

 

**1 month and seventeen hours earlier**

 

Regina is never happy. Her days are filled with...well, they're filled. With work, mostly, but even that has calmed down, and now she's back to her old routine. Her nights are loud and sweaty and magical. She feels her hands trembling during the day when she can't access her magic, and she races out after work in order to find the busiest spot in the city in order to get her fix. Writhing bodies and sloppy kisses. Where before magic was a lifestyle, something to treasure and nurture and grow, now it's a shitty fix. She uses it like a drug. Letting it pour out of her only to inhale it back into her body, letting it fill in the empty spaces.

 

It makes her numb.

 

It makes her high.

 

“Ms. Mills, there's a call for you on line 2.”

 

“Thank you, Tasha.”

 

Regina and Kat have formed a fast friendship, and if she's honest with herself, her time spent with the woman are the only times she's even close to content. Kat is easy and sweet, but she keeps up with Regina in a way that no one else she's pursued has. Kat finds Regina's slightly dark sense of humor endearing more than terrifying, and she can dish it out just as well as she can take it.

 

They meet for lunch, mostly, Regina's nights filled with other appointments, and the ease in which they interact has Regina reconsidering the lifestyle she's built for herself.

 

It's been over a year since the last time she saw Henry. Saw Emma. Saw her family. Maybe it was time to move on.

 

Regina's not an idiot. She knows that her night time routines are a coping mechanism. A shitty one, but an effective one.

 

Regina presses the yellow button on her desk phone. “Regina Mills speaking.”

 

Moving on, she thinks, jotting down a few notes in the margins of the contract she's reading over. It may be time.

 

“Mom!”

 

Regina's breath catches in her chest. She drops the pen she was holding, and she stands up so fast that the phone's base slides precariously close to the edge when she stumbles backwards until her back slams into the glass window behind her.

 

“Henry?” she chokes out. Her heart pounds against her chest.

 

“Mom! We're home! We're in Storybrooke!”

 

Regina's vision blurs. Before she can say more, the room is tilting, and her world goes dark with the sound of her desk phone clattering to the floor.

 


	7. Supermassive Black Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than normal. Thanks for all of the comments and kudos so far! I really appreciate them. :)

**Two weeks earlier**

 

The pull to leave New York for Maine immediately following Henry's call had been very nearly irresistible; however, she remains in the city for two more weeks in order to close loose ends and finish several on-going projects for her company. Nearly a year's worth of work without so much as a sick day, including a shit ton of hours worth of overtime, success after success that had lead to her current position within the company she works for, and she has more than earned her vacation time. Her boss didn't even question the request, and soon she was packing her essentials for the trip to Maine.

 

It was one suitcase, two small travel bags, one purse, and three panic attacks later before she was back in the bug on her way to Storybrooke, Maine. Regina had kept the car in good condition, but she hadn't driven it in months. It felt good to be back behind the wheel.

 

An hour out of New York, she shoots out a quick text to Kat when she stops for food, feeling slightly guilty for leaving without so much as a goodbye.

 

_**Kat, I will be out of town for the next few days.** _

_**Sorry that I didn't tell you.** _

_**It's complicated.** _

 

The fact that she even cares what this woman thinks is enough to make her smile to herself. Kat has wormed her way into Regina's affections, and it wasn't even difficult. Regina liked the woman. She would miss her.

 

A few minutes later, she receives a reply.

 

_You bitch. What the hell am I going to do for lunch now?_

 

Regina laughs out loud at that.

 

_**I'm sure you'll survive without me.** _

 

_Listen, Mills, I don't know what you're up to, but be safe, please?_

_I don't want to end up on the news._

 

Regina chuckles, typing out a response.

 

_**Stop being dramatic, dear.** _

_**And I will.** _

 

The remainder of the trip is uneventful. She receives a few random texts from Kat. One asking where she's actually going so she can answer the police if they come around looking for bodies. And another one just being nosey.

 

Regina answers the first one, but declines explanation with the second, stating that she has “family business” to take care of.

 

When Regina is nearing the town line, her phone beeps. She's expecting another text from Kat, but instead, Henry's number flashes on her screen before she selects the text.

 

_Mom, call me._

 

She taps the number on her phone and presses the cell to her ear, one hand still on the steering wheel.

 

Before he answers, she pulls the bug to a stop where the line to Storybrooke should have been. She frowns and steps out of the car.

 

“Mom!” he answers once she's standing where the line should be.

 

“Henry,” she says, and she can't keep the smile from spreading across her face. Regina has spoken to him several times in the past two weeks. Catching up, talking about everything and nothing, but she still can't get enough of the sound of his voice. It's deeper now. Richer.

 

“Mom, I see you!” he yells into her ear, but the smile falls from her lips, replaced with a deep frown.

 

“I don't see you,” she says, and there's a sinking feeling in her gut and a heavy weight on her heart.

 

“Regina?” there's a new voice on the other end of her phone, and her breath catches in her throat at the sound of it.

 

“Emma,” she whispers, but she catches herself, schooling her emotions, remembering that she can't see them, but they can see her. Her heart is pounding, though, at the sound of the Emma's voice. It has haunted her dreams for months now, and her heart isn't even sure what to do with the new development. Is it even new?

 

There's silence on the other end before, “Hi.”

 

Regina chokes back a sob, and she's grinning before she can remember to care about schooling her features for an invisible audience. “Hi,” she replies, her throat thick with emotion. “What's wrong?” she asks, clearing her throat. “Why can't I see you?”

 

Regina hears Emma exhale sharply on the other end of the line. “New curse. Anyone who leaves gets taken by flying monkeys.”

 

“Excuse me,” Regina deadpans.

 

She hears Emma snort. “I know, right. I hate this fucking town.”

 

There's a cry of “Emma!” in the background which Regina recognizes in an instant as Snow.

 

“Miss Swan, as much as I share in the majority of that sentiment, I would like to hope that you don't use those words around Henry,” she says, and it takes quite a bit of focus to keep the smirk from her face. _God, I've missed that woman_ , she thinks to herself, and she's momentarily taken aback by that thought.

 

“What's wrong? Regina?”

 

Regina shakes her head to clear it. “Nothing, nothing. I'm fine.” She walks a little closer to the town line. “Who cast this curse?”

 

“We don't exactly know.”

 

“Of course not,” Regina says, and she can feel the headache building behind her eyes. “Given the flying monkeys, I'm going to take a wild guess on the Wicked Witch of the West.”

 

“For fuc—I mean,” Emma pauses, and Regina bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. By the way Emma chuckles on the other end, though, apparently, Regina isn't able to hide her amusement as well as she was hoping from the woman on the other side of the line. “Do you know her?” Emma asks instead.

 

Regina shakes her head and shifts her weight onto her right foot to rest her left. The heels she's wearing aren't exactly made to stand around in the middle of the road for long periods of time in. She rotates her ankle. “We've never met. I only know stories.” Regina runs her hand through her hair. “What now?”

 

Emma hesitates. “I don't know.” There's a pause and Regina can hear Henry saying something to Emma. “We're going to find a way to get you in, though.”

 

Regina finds that she doesn't have much room in her life anymore for hope. “Alright,” she says, and if her voice didn't convey the defeat she felt, her body language must have.

 

“Regina.” Emma says, and it's firm. It's solid, and Regina clings to the sound. “I will find a way.”

 

 

**One week, six days, and two hours earlier.**

 

Regina drives until she finds a small, but nice, hotel as close to the edge of Storybrooke as she can get. Once she's settled in, though, she's bored. She didn't bring any work with her, and there's only so much you can do on a Blackberry before you've exhausted its entertainment factor.

 

She feels her hands start to tremble before she realizes that it has been four nights since she's used magic. It's making her twitchy and irritable, and her head is aching.

 

It's already 11:30 at night, and she's in no mood to go out anyway, so she finds herself texting a familiar number before she really knows why.

 

_**Hi. Are you awake?** _

 

It's not even a minute before she gets Emma's reply.

 

_Hey. Yeah. What's up? Are you ok?_

 

_**I'm fine. Bored. How's Henry?** _

 

_Haha. Maine not as thrilling as NYC, huh?_

_Henry's fine._

_He misses you._

 

Regina lays back against the pillows on her bed and tucks her knees to her chest, balancing her phone on her legs.

 

_**I miss him, too.** _

 

_How are you holding up?_

 

Regina thinks for a moment. She drums her fingers against the back of her phone.

 

_**I feel like shit.** _

 

_Haha!_

_Sorry. It's not funny._

_Just not used to you cussing, Madam Mayor._

 

Regina smiles.

 

_**A lot has changed in a year.** _

 

_How so?_

 

_**Let's just say, I haven't made the most responsible choices.** _

 

_Oh?_

 

It feels like a lie. If there's one thing that Regina has always done, it has been to own up to the choices that she's made. To say that her choices over the past year were irresponsible insinuates that they were made irrationally. The fact is, she made conscious decisions to do the things she's done, and she's not really of the mind to apologize for any of them. Call it coping, call it giving up. She amends her statement.

 

_**No. That's not entirely true.** _

_**I am completely responsible for the choices I've made.** _

_**I'd rather Henry not find out about any of it, however.** _

 

_Are you going to keep being cryptic or are you going to tell me what you've been doing?_

_You're not some kind of fucking crime boss are you?_

_Not that that wouldn't be badass._

_But entirely unhealthy._

 

Regina smiles again.

 

_**Hardly.** _

_**I appreciate that you think I would excel in that area, though.** _

 

Months of stress and anxiety are slipping from her shoulders and the muscles in her back the more she talks to Emma.

 

_Well? Don't tell me you're pregnant._

_I can only deal with one pregnant woman in the family right now._

 

Regina blinks at the message.

 

_**Who the hell is pregnant??** _

 

_Oh, shit! I forgot to tell you!_

_Snow!_

_My mother is pregnant._

_I don't want to talk about it._

 

Regina snorts out a laugh before she can stop herself.

 

_**Alright.** _

 

_Thanks. Now. You. NYC. What's the deal?_

 

_**Well, if I didn't have a decent job, I would have drank up all of my money by now.** _

_**I've had sex with entirely too many people.** _

_**Most of which, I couldn't even tell you their names.** _

_**Cigarettes are of the devil, but I love them.** _

_**And I've developed a strange attachment to shitty NY hot dogs.** _

_**Mustard and relish only, please.** _

 

_Holy shit, Regina!_

 

_**Is it wrong that I'm most ashamed of the hot dog addiction?** _

 

_Haha!! Probably._

_Are you happy?_

 

Is she happy? Regina closes her eyes, sighs, and types a reply.

 

_**Not in the slightest.** _

 

_Good._

 

Regina stares at the response.

 

_**What?** _

 

Emma's reply is a long time coming, and Regina thinks that she isn't going to get one when her phone flashes.

 

_I would be disappointed if you were happy without us._

 

Regina's fingers are trembling again, but it's not from a lack of magic this time. She's about to type a response when Emma says more.

 

_Henry was miserable without you._

_In the beginning, it was all I could do to get him outside._

_He wasn't eating enough._

_He slept a lot._

 

Tears are streaking down Regina's cheeks. _My sweet, sweet boy,_ she thinks and the tears continue to fall.

 

_He listened to an old voicemail from you on my phone until the battery finally died._

_When my parents took back their castle, Henry found your room._

 

Regina gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.

 

_Henry and I lived there._

_I hope that's okay._

 

Regina's vision is blurry through the tears, and her breathing is slightly ragged. She closes her messaging app and selects a number on her phone, trembling hand holding it against her ear.

 

“Regina?”

 

“Of course that's okay,” Regina rushes to say, her voice raspy and strained through the tears.

 

Emma stays quiet while Regina sobs into the phone. Her nose is running, her eyes are puffy and red, and she can't stop the horribly unattractive choking noises coming from her throat.

 

“It was comforting, you know?” Emma finally says, and her voice is soft and soothing. “The entire place smelled like you.” Emma laughs a little. “That's probably weird to say.”

 

Regina laughs, too, the sound watery through her tears. “Incredibly weird.”

 

“It's just,” Emma pauses. “Henry and I,” another pause. “There was nothing familiar to us in that world, you know? But you—your room—I don't know.” Emma sighs. “I'm probably saying this all wrong.”

 

Regina is shaking her head, about to say something else when she hears a muffled, “Mom?” from Emma's end.

 

“Hey, kid. What are you doing up?” comes Emma's response, and Regina hears the shuffling of covers and the creaking of a bed frame.

 

“Couldn't sleep,” Henry says, voice much closer now.

 

“Regina,” Emma comes back with. “I'm gonna put you on speaker.”

 

Regina grins, wiping furiously at the tears still on her cheeks and clears her throat.

 

“Mom?”

 

“Hello, sweetheart. Why are you up so late?” Regina glances over at the digital clock on her bedside table and 12:27am glares back at her.

 

“The bed here feels weird,” he says, and Regina can hear the scrunchy nose in his voice. “I miss yours.”

 

Regina chuckles, willing the tears not to fall. “Yes, Emma tells me that you two stole my room. How rude.” She's rewarded with laughs from both Henry and Emma at that. “How long did it take you to find--”

 

“A week,” Henry interrupts, the grin evident in his voice, and Regina barks out a laugh.

 

“Wait, am I missing something?” Emma asks. “Find what?”

 

Regina can hear Henry giggling through the phone, and it warms her heart.

 

“Henry?” Regina prompts and the giggling quiets but only a little. “How many did you find?”

 

“Five,” he responds proudly. “The one beside the balcony took the longest, but only because Emma was using the torch bracket as a coat hanger for the first week.”

 

Regina snorts out a laugh.

 

Henry suddenly yells out an, “Emma!” and is howling in mock-hurt. “Mom, stop!”

 

“I'm still in the room, you know,” Emma says. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

 

“My quarters had a number of hidden passageways. It seems Henry found the majority of them.”

 

“What?” Henry yells. “How many were there?”

 

“Seven and a half if you'd like to get technical.” Henry huffs on the other end. “Trust me, sweetheart, you did well to find any.”

 

Henry seems boosted by the praise, but then let's out an, “Ow! Mom! Stop it!”

 

“Miss Swan, are you abusing our child?”

 

“I can't believe you didn't tell me about those,” Emma complains. “Is that how you always beat me down to the kitchens?”

 

Her only answer is another fit of giggling from Henry, and Regina listens through the phone while a bout of playful wrestling breaks out on the other end. Henry's shrieks are enough to likely wake the entire Charming loft.

 

“I'm sure your parents are going to appreciate the noise at 1 in the morning,” Regina says loudly, interrupting the two of them.

 

“What?” Emma asks. “Oh. We're not staying with my parents.”

 

“Oh,” Regina responds. “Did you get your own place? Don't tell me you're at Granny's.”

 

The idea of the two of them sleeping in hotel rooms just so Emma can run away from a pregnant Snow is enough to have her frowning in disapproval.

 

“Uh, no,” Emma says, and there's the sound of more shuffling. “We, uh—Well, we—”

 

“We're at home, Mom,” Henry finally says over Emma's stuttering.

 

_Home_ , Regina thinks, and she's silent for a moment until, “You're staying at Mifflin?” she asks, voice soft and quiet.

 

Emma's voice is just as quiet when she says, “Yeah. Is that,” she pauses. “Is that okay?”

 

Regina feels the tears start to well up again, but she's smiling.

 

“It's just—well, we stayed with my parents for the first few days, but it just didn't—I don't know, it didn't feel right. And Henry wanted to go home to see if your stuff was still there, and, well,” another pause. “We just kind of ended up staying.” When Regina doesn't respond immediately, she adds, “If you don't want me here, I underst--”

 

“No!” she finally says. “No, of course not. You two _should_ be there. It belongs to Henry, after all, if it belongs to anyone, and you are more than welcome there as well, Miss Swan.”

 

Regina lets the tears fall then as she just listens to Henry and Emma breathing evenly through the phone. All three remain comfortably silent, and before long, Regina can here soft snoring.

 

There's a beep. “Henry's asleep,” Emma says, cell apparently off of speaker phone now.

 

Regina smiles. “I miss him, Emma.”

 

“I know,” Emma says, careful to keep her voice low. “We're going to find a way to break through the boundary.”

 

“I wish I shared your optimism, Miss Swan.” Regina finds herself almost whispering as well even though there's no one else on her end to worry about waking.

 

“Hey,” Emma says. “I'm the Savior, remember? Breaking curses is kind of my thing.”

 

That makes Regina laugh, even though the sound is a bit choked. “Yes, Miss Swan, I suppose it is.”

 

“I missed that, you know.”

 

“Missed what?”

 

“No one else calls me 'Miss Swan'.” Emma laughs quietly. “I used to hate it.”

 

“I know,” Regina says, the smirk evident in her voice.

 

Emma snorts. “Evil Queen, indeed.” She clears her throat. “I, uh—I may have, you know—missed, well—may have missed you, too,” Emma finishes in a rush.

 

Regina is silent for a long moment, not exactly sure what to do with blatant honesty between the two of them. They don't lie to each other exactly, but their relationship is centered around good-natured teasing more than emotional openness. Their truths come out in angry moments of stressed vulnerability. Usually shouted. Sometimes with fists involved. But this truth is quiet and calm and raw.

 

Regina smiles. “I, uh, um,” Regina mocks, receiving a quiet laugh from Emma. “May have missed you as well.” She pauses. “Emma.”

 

“Good,” is the response she gets and she can hear the fucking grin in the woman's voice which only makes her roll her eyes.

 

They stay on the phone together in the quiet of 2am talking about the past year. What Emma's missed in this world, what Regina missed in the Enchanted Forest, and it's nearing 4:30am when Regina's breathing finally evens out, her phone resting between her ear and the pillow, and Emma's quiet, “Night, Regina,” is barely heard before she drifts contentedly off to the sleep.

 


	8. Dreams Are Dangerous

**One week earlier**

 

Regina returns to the town line pretty regularly after arriving in Maine. It has been a week since she's arrived, and she and Emma have spent most days brainstorming on what magical remedies might work on their current situation. They sit on opposite sides of the town line, Emma staring back at Regina while they talk, but Regina herself still unable to see anything ahead of her but empty road and trees. It builds frustration more often than not.

 

Regina has nothing to do today while she waits for Emma, and, usually, she simply ends up pacing. Today, though, she's sitting on the hood of the bug with a book open on her lap when she gets a call.

 

“Hello,” she answers, not bothering to check the number and not looking up from her book. She adjusts her sunglasses, pushing them a bit further up on her nose and then brushes a strand of hair out of her face. She let it grow out after leaving Storybrooke initially, and it's now well below her shoulders.

 

“I miss my car, Regina.” Emma's whine makes her sound like a pouty seventeen year old.

 

Regina chuckles, still looking down at her book. “Oh?”

 

“Yes. And you look entirely too comfortable on it right now. It's not fair.”

 

Regina looks up at that, staring out into the seemingly empty road ahead of her, squinting her eyes as if that will allow her to see through the magic barrier separating her from Storybrooke, her son, and Emma.

 

It doesn't.

 

She crosses her ankles and lets the book fall to rest on her thighs, leaning back a bit with her palm against the hood.

 

“For a disgustingly-colored deathtrap of a car, it is a rather comfortable lounge chair, isn't it?” she says, and Emma groans on the other end.

 

“No need to rub it in.”

 

Regina smiles and closes the book, setting it beside her as she leans forward on the car, hands resting against the edge of the hood. “Sorry, dear.” Emma doesn't respond, so she continues. “I promised Henry that I would stay through the end of the week and--”

 

“Wait, you're leaving?” Emma interrupts, the panic in her voice seeping through only slightly.

 

Henry had begged Regina to stay longer, but she can't afford to stay away from work any more than she already has. The thought that she may not ever be able to enter Storybrooke keeps her from picking up everything, saying fuck it, and just moving close to the town. But that idea feels painful and raw in her chest – being so close but never close how it matters most.

 

Regina's last week started this morning, and she will leave the town line, and what lies out of reach beyond it, by the weekend. If they find a solution, she'll return. If not, though...

 

Regina brushes a bit of dust off of her pants. She shrugs. “I can't stay away from work for too long, and I do need to be--”

 

“But--”

 

“But what, Emma?” Regina interrupts this time. “I can't enter Storybrooke. Do you expect me to camp out in the woods, hoping you'll find a way through, living through my cell phone?” Her tone is sharper than she means it to be, but it is what it is at this point.

 

“No, of course not,” Emma says, and Regina thinks she sounds defeated.

 

“Look,” Regina says, making a conscious effort to soften her voice. “We have the week. If we can't figure anything out by then, well,” she stops there, not wanting to fully acknowledge what their options will be, if any, if the Savior can't solve the issue of the barrier between Regina and her son. Between Regina and her _family_.

 

Silence takes over, and Regina listens to Emma breathing and the birds singing in the trees on either side of the road. There's a gentle breeze keeping the heat of the day at bay, and Regina leans her head back and closes her eyes, letting her hair whip across her face in the wind.

 

Regina has grown to enjoy the city. It's easy to get lost in. She can feel like just another body in a sea of millions instead of a target in a pool of a hundred. But she has missed being outdoors. Clean air, clear skies, the only noises coming from nature - It's calming, and she loses herself in the peaceful atmosphere.

 

Regina thinks about what Kat would say if she could see her sitting in the middle of the woods, resting on top of a beat up VW beetle, and she smiles against the wind on her cheek.

 

“Regina?” Emma breaks the silence.

 

“Hmm,” Regina hums an answer, keeping her eyes closed.

 

“Give my car a hug from me.”

 

Regina snorts. “I will not.” Her smile only grows, though. “Control yourself, Swan.”

 

She hears Emma kick something, and in another breath, a small stone clangs against the side of the bug, jolting Regina upright.

 

“What the hell was that?” She's sitting up now, looking around the empty road.

 

“Shit!” Emma yells into the phone, and Regina pulls it away from her ear. “Holy shit, Regina!”

 

Suddenly, Regina's side of the line is being bombarded by lose stones and debris. Rocks and leaves and sticks are raining down near her looking as if they're appearing from nowhere.

 

Emma is laughing on her end. Regina's off of the hood of the car now, standing closer to the barrier than she's been since she arrived. Her hand twitches at her side, and before she can think better of it, she's slowly lifting it to the invisible barrier in front of her.

 

“Regina--” Emma warns, but she ignores it, and presses her hand forward.

 

The sound of magic hums around the air in front of her hand, and soon she can feel the vibrations of it at her fingertips. She finally inches forward the rest of the way as if to slip her fingertips through, but her hand is repelled back so fast, she nearly hits herself in the face.

 

“Shit!” Emma says, and Regina can hear her feet scrambling against the road as she moves closer.

 

“I'm fine,” Regina says, hopefully stopping Emma from getting too close. “Apparently, it doesn't allow for people.”

 

Regina bends down to pick up a stone instead and then tosses it underhand in front of her. It disappears. A few seconds later, Emma kicks the same stone back towards her.

 

“That's still a good thing, though,” Emma says. “It means we can pass something through to you. Or something.” Her voice is undeniably excited.

 

“Calm down, Miss Swan.” Regina has her hand on her hip, glaring ahead, willing the barrier to appear to her.

 

“No! I assumed that nothing could pass through!” Emma's excited now, and Regina can hear her begin to pace. “Alright. Think. Is there anything that I can pass _through_ the barrier that would help?”

 

Regina is shaking her head before Emma finishes. “Not that I can think of.”

 

“Well, think harder, woman!”

 

“You're insufferable when you're excited.”

 

“Regina, I'm going mad in here. I want my car. I want out. I want out!”

 

Regina laughs. “You're such a child.”

 

The day is growing long and night is slowly settling down around them by the time Regina is getting back in the bug to return to the hotel. She and Emma compiled a list of things that might help, but if Regina's honest, they're not even very good guesses. Emma suggests talking to Blue, which Regina scoffs at, but, at this point, anything that may help her to get back to Henry is one she's willing to explore.

 

Emma's hope is palpable even through their cell phones, and it's not until the end of the week when Regina returns to the town line that her world goes back to being the hopeless mess that she's grown accustomed to.

 


	9. The Last Sunrise

**Two days and five hours earlier**

 

Regina stands in front of the bug with one hand on her hip and the other holding her cell phone loosely against her ear.

 

“Alright, toss it through.”

 

A moment later, a small scroll is clattering at her feet, and she picks it up. All of their ideas had been a bust, and they weren't even sure if this one would work either. It was a wonder that Emma was able to find it at all, given that they weren't sure if Regina's things, and her vault, would have even made it over in this new curse. Fortunately, everything was where it had been previously, and Emma was able to find the scroll with Regina's help.

 

Regina bends over to snatch the scroll from off of the road and then walks over to the bug to set her phone down. She taps the speaker button so she can still hear Emma and Henry before she walks back to the town line and unrolls the scroll, their last resort. If this fails, well, she's not sure what else to try.

 

Regina takes a deep breath, reads the words aloud, ancient words that she has to think about before she utters, and then she waits. But nothing happens.

 

She exhales sharply and tries again. Nothing.

 

“Regina?” she hears Emma's voice, tinny through the speaker setting on her phone behind her.

 

“It didn't work,” Regina says, and then she's pacing. “It might not work without magic. These words are triggers, if I remember correctly, but they're just dead on the page without power behind them.” She kicks the bug's front tire in frustration.

 

“Hey!” Emma's voice again. “Be nice to my car, woman.”

 

Regina turns and glares in the direction of the town line.

 

“Try again?” Emma asks, and Henry says, “One more time, Mom.” and she's walking back to the line, the scroll held out in front of her.

 

Regina finishes the incantation for a second time, but still nothing.

 

All of a sudden, flashes of nights spent in dirty clubs, writhing against sweaty bodies, loud music filling the air, and _magic_ in a _world without magic_ fill her brain, and Regina is walking back to her car to pick up her phone. She taps the speaker button and puts the cell to her ear.

 

“It needs magic,” she says.

 

Emma sighs on the other end. “Well, great.” A small rock soars through the barrier, having been kicked across. “What now?”

 

Regina shuffles her feet against the pavement and looks down at her feet. “Am I on speaker?” she asks.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Emma says. “Why?”

 

“Can you take me off, please?” There's a beep signaling that she's been taken off. “I'd rather Henry not hear this conversation,” she says to Emma.

 

Regina hears Emma ask Henry to go wait in the car, and he goes without complaint. Another moment and then, “What's wrong?”

 

Regina sighs. “I think there may be a way to,” she pauses, “create magic. Even when this world doesn't naturally possess it.”

 

“How?” Emma asks, and Regina is encouraged by the woman's open-mindedness and trust.

 

“Well, there's a reason that I go out so frequently in New York, Emma. The people,” she says and shifts her feet again. “People are so emotional. Strong human emotion – be it joy or anger or lust – it creates a tangible energy. And that kind of energy recognizes other power. Fuels it.” Regina doesn't say any more, and she waits for Emma to put the pieces together.

 

“You were using them as a fix,” Emma says, and Regina winces.

 

“Yes,” she says, and it pains her to admit a weakness.

 

“Well,” Emma says, not a hint of judgment in her tone, “How can we create that environment here?”

 

Regina wants to smile. Emma: Always the Savior.

 

“I'm not sure,” Regina says truthfully, but then she remembers talking with Emma and Henry that first night back in Maine. She recalls the faint buzzing feeling in her veins when Emma was telling her about she and Henry staying in her old room, the joy that flooded her when she realized that she was able to comfort her family even in her absence, and she has a plan.

 

“Tell me something about your time in the Enchanted Forest. Something about you and Henry,” she says, and Emma catches on quickly.

 

“Oh!” Emma says, and Regina hears her start to pace. “Henry learned to sword fight. My dad was adamant about him being able to defend himself,” Emma says, and Regina can hear her smiling. “Something about a prince knowing how to fight for his kingdom. It was all very _Karate Kid_ , but Henry was _loving_ it.” Emma chuckles. “My dad also insisted on teaching me, but that only lasted through two lessons before everyone realized that I'm probably better off not having access to pointy weapons.”

 

Regina laughs, and her heart is instantly warmed at the idea of Henry learning to use a sword, and Emma's failure. She feels her blood warm the slightest bit at the information and encourages Emma to continue with a wave of her hand. “Go on, go on!”

 

“Um, let's see,” Emma says, her tapping foot audible through the phone. “Henry drove Snow _insane_ for the first few weeks back at the castle. He would question her every command, asking if she was _sure_. She didn't know how to respond for the most part, and Henry doesn't take kindly to _because I said so_ so they butted heads quite a bit. It was hilarious.” Emma pauses when Regina barks out a loud laugh. “When Snow called for a ball to announce the pregnancy, Henry threw a fit. I believe he declared it 'useless,' 'a waste of time,' and I'm pretty sure the words 'sleeping curse' were thrown around a bit.” Regina gasps. “By both of them. My dad and I were heavily entertained through it all.”

 

“I imagine so!” Regina said, the laughter clear in her voice.

 

“But it all ended well,” Emma says. “Henry and Snow apologized for the majority of the second month, and after that, all was well. Henry was just freaked out not having you around, and Snow was all hyped up on pregnancy hormones. She missed you, too, though,” Emma says, and her voice is quieter now. “She probably wouldn't admit that, but she did.”

 

Regina's blood is beginning to thrum against her skin now, and she can feel the faint trace of magic bubbling up from her belly. Still too insignificant to act on, but there, and that is encouraging.

 

Regina's chest tightens, though, at Emma's admittance about Snow. She can't say that she's thought all that much on her former step-daughter, but she doesn't hate her anymore. So that's something.

 

“It's working, Emma,” Regina says, starting to pace the line. “Keep going.”

 

There's silence for a few beats before Emma speaks again. There's a hitch in her throat when she starts talking. “I didn't sleep much for the first two weeks we were there.” Her voice is quiet. “I kept thinking about—about you here. About you alone in this stupid world.”

 

Regina stops pacing at Emma's quiet words. She finds herself backing up to lean against the bug as she listens.

 

“Henry was a wreck, and I couldn't do anything but wrap my arms around him while he cried himself to sleep at night. And then I would just lay there. I would just listen to him breathing until I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open any more.” Emma kicks at a few stones and they skitter across the invisible barrier. “He missed you so much, Regina. I— _I_ missed you. I couldn't stop wondering if you were okay. Did you go to Boston? Did you go to New York? Did you settle in some small town in Maine? Were you happy? It drove me crazy.”

 

Regina felt tears falling down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. She reaches up to wipe them away, but more fall.

 

“It wasn't until Henry found your room that we were both finally able to really sleep at night. I went through your closet, and all of your clothes still smelled like you. Your desk still had your handwritten notes sitting on it. Your vanity had your perfume. It was all of these little things, Regina, that helped us feel---not so alone, I guess. Like you were still around, helping us through the day.”

 

Regina is crying openly now at Emma's words, and she aches to hold them both in her arms again. Being able to speak with them is something that she never thought she'd do again, but she needs more.

 

“Regina?” Emma asks, and Regina looks up, her eyes obviously starting to turn red.

 

“Hmm?” Regina asks, not trusting herself to speak.

 

“You're—glowing,” Emma says.

 

Regina looks down at her hands, and small waves of magic are flowing around her fingertips. She gasps and quickly sets the phone down on the bug before approaching the town line again, scroll in hand. This time, when she reads from the scroll, a jolt of light grey magic swirls from her chest and penetrates the barrier in front of her. A flash of light, and Emma and Henry, still sitting in Emma's car, blink into view, and Regina gasps at the sight.

 

Henry is launching out of the car in the next moment, running towards her, when Emma races over to intercept him, catching him around the waist before he can cross the line.

 

“Kid! We don't know if the barrier's gone yet.” Henry struggles against her for a few moments, but he calms when Regina is agreeing with her.

 

“Stay there, sweetheart,” Regina says, and she has to stop _herself_ from running to him as well. She catches Emma's eye.

 

“Hey,” Emma says, and Regina smiles at her.

 

“Hey,” Regina says, feeling incredibly lame but still overjoyed at being able to see the two of them.

 

When Regina reaches out a hand, though, it thumps against an invisible, yet painfully solid, wall of magic. It doesn't repel her like it did before, but it still buzzes faintly under her hand. And when she starts pounding her fists against it, it's Emma who is yelling at her, trying to calm her. She stops hitting it, leaning her shoulder against it, and she slides down to the pavement, one of her hands still splayed in mid air, pressed against the barrier, and her son is on the other side whispering to her that they'll find a way. That he will find a way.

 

Regina's last vestiges of hope fade away on an empty road in Maine. They're out of ideas, and she is out of time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to present day for the next chapter. I'm all out of pre-written chapters now, so updates will come a bit slower. Thanks for all of the comments and kudos!


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